The Dragon and Her Rider
by Mr or Ms Tanuki
Summary: A collection of drabbles, one-shots, etc. Some are canon, others AU, pairings:? probably not.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a bunch of very short one-shots, drabbles and etc… most are totally different stories, some are AU, others canon. Anyways…enjoy!**

Sometimes Eragon would just look back and remember.

All the people he had taught all the dragons with shimmering scales he had seen.

It had been many years now, he was very old.

Angela's prediction of long life had been accurate. Roran and Katrina were long dead, of old age passing away sleepily in each other's arms. Nasuada had been a great queen and her tomb was renowned for its beauty. Ismira, his niece whom he had met only a few times in her life time was also dead, the only reason her face wasn't entirely lost in the ravages of time was that he had made a fairth of her so he could remember.

Yet he lived on, teaching and helping and correcting.

That was the path he had chosen.

**Thanks for reading, and remember to review :D**


	2. History and It's Repeats

**Very random, sort of just what the one-shot Betrayal might have been.**

Betrayal, they had been betrayed.

By one of their own.

And so history repeated itself, with the bloodshed, hunger, sickness and death.

Saphira had died protecting him, from his former student's wrath. She died a quick clean death. He missed her, mourned for her. She was his other half, and now she was gone.

Many of his students were killed by _**them**_.

He knew that his former student while smart, was arrogant, proud and very confident in his abilities. His former student wouldn't resist the urge to show-off.

So he waited.

When the traitor finally came he ignored the arrogant look of disdain, the taunts, the comments the traitor intended to hurt him. Instead, he let the numbness take over.

He was numb.

Emotionally, physically, spiritually, whatever.

He ignored his anger, his want no need, for revenge. He ignored his sorrow and all those other emotions.

The blood stained the ground. It was only a light drizzle. Yet it awakened his former stu-no, it was now the traitor.

The traitor was now taking it slightly more seriously. He taunted and sneered. There were many times Eragon could've wounded him.

Damn it.

Why couldn't he?

Why?

Blood.

Splattering sounds.

Red on the dusty floor.

A small puddle.

He ignored the pain because he was numb. He deserved that deep stinging cut. How many had died because of his weakness?

Saphira, Aiedail, Datia,Evarinya and many more.

The traitor was now taunting him because of while he was thinking.

He ignored them again, just like he had ignored all those other comments. Those were nothing to him.

He surged forwards. The traitor was desperately fighting now, using magic and whatever he could think of.

Eragon was older, he had more experience, no matter how many Eldunari the traitor had managed to get.

And so the sickly, sweet smell of blood tainted the air.

The traitor was dead.

And history didn't entirely repeat itself.

But Saphira was dead.

And it was all his fault.


	3. Chapter 3

**This is for TheEyesOfIris, wait did I spell that right? Any ways thank you for giving this idea. :D review please. And all this and my stories are only edited by me. Not really the best thing since some of my ideas only make sense to me. I'm sorry, but just point out some of my mistakes for me OK? Oh, I nearly forgot, this is from Arya's point of view from my one-shot Never Meant To Be, its probably best to read that first.**

Arya breathed in. Out. In. Out.

She had been refused.

She thought he would say yes. It had taken all of her courage to do so.

Her eyes stung slightly.

Was she going to cry?

She hated her eyes at that moment for defying her will and starting to have tears at her eyelashes. The stinging feeling was increasing. But _she would not cry._

She refused to cry. She had better self control than this. The years of politics had honed her self control better than this!

Eragon was cold and slightly distant towards her that whole time. He had changed, more than she had. He wasn't the same young Rider she once knew. She missed the old Eragon, the one that was foolish, brash and naive. The one that acted before he act, not the other way around.

She put a hand to her head.

_What was she think?_

She wasn't thinking. Which was something she wasn't used to. She had just done this all on instinct.

A wave of shame passed through her. A thing that she hadn't had in some time. She was ashamed because she hadn't properly thought it through. Arya felt annoyed at herself for not properly thinking it through. Instinct and just linking a few thoughts together were all that she had thought about this.

Arya thought that she realised her true feelings for him after decades from their last meeting. She thought he might accept.

Shame, annoyance and a few mixtures of something else.

She really was naive and idiotic to actually believe that they could be together. Since Arya realised and accepted the fact now that they were never meant to be.

La Fin.


End file.
